Coup
Brooklyn Knight
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
COUP
First edition. November 29, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Brooklyn Knight.
Written by Brooklyn Knight.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Coup (The French Connection Series, #2)
One | Michael
Two | Dylan
Three | Dylan
Four | Laila
Five | Michael
Six | Dylan
Seven | Dylan
Eight | Laila
Nine | Laila
Ten | Laila
Eleven | Michael
Twelve | Dylan
Thirteen | Laila
Fourteen | Dylan
Fifteen | Michael
Sixteen | Dylan
Seventeen | Laila
Eighteen | Laila
Nineteen | Laila
Twenty | Dylan
Twenty-One | Dylan
Twenty-Two | Dylan
Twenty-Three | Laila
Twenty-Four | Dylan
Twenty-Five | Dylan
Twenty-Six | Dylan
Twenty-Seven | Dylan
Twenty-Eight | Laila
Twenty-Nine | Laila
Thirty | Laila
Thirty-One | Dylan
Thirty-Two | Dylan
Thirty-Three | Laila
Thirty-Four | Laila
Thirty-Five | Dylan
One | Stefan
Other Books by Brooklyn Knight
About the Author
Dedication
~ To everyone who has taken a chance on my imagination thus far. I’m growing because of you ~
~ To everyone who has taken the time to review my work ~
~ To Mia Bean, who’s been reading my stories for years ~
READERS’ NOTE
I am grateful for all readers and those who take the time to rate and comment on my writing. I consider each of my readers' opinions carefully. Some readers expressed dissatisfaction with the epilogue in the original version of this book’s prequel, Oui. On October 4, 2018, Oui’s epilogue was removed. The removal did not change Oui’s storyline; however, it will have influenced early readers’ expectations of this sequel.
‘Coup’ is the exciting continuation of Dylan and Laila’s story.
I hope you enjoy.
Coup
ko͞o/
noun
a sudden, violent, and illegal seizure of power from a government.
"he was overthrown in an army coup"
Synonyms: seizure of power, coup d’etat, putsch, overthrow, takeover, deposition
One
Michael
‘We Are Now’
“Who is that?”
The woman was walking across the stage with an elegance and grace that she could only have been born with. My eyes narrowed in intense concentration as I drank in the splendor of her details: petite frame, proportionate curves, and cute face. She was the epitome of a beautiful black female, and the powerful curiosity I had developed about her in a matter of minutes was mind-boggling.
Sasha, my assistant, leaned close. “Her name is Laila Renaud,” she answered. Her eyes were also glued on the woman, but in the same way lionesses stared at other lionesses in the wild. “She’s Johnson and Wales’s top student.” Sasha paused. “She was also the intern at Hamilton Associates.”
My eyes contracted. “Really...” I scanned the rows of seats until I saw him. He was four rows ahead of me, a fact that irritated me beyond measure in and of itself, but when I saw the way he was looking after her – like a desperate dog locked in an SPCA kennel searching for an owner – something deep inside me burned.
I stroked my beard. “So that’s his little play thing...” I muttered.
Sasha frowned, and I digressed.
Dylan Hamilton and his boys at Hamilton Associates had done a fine job of keeping the story under wraps; the story of how he’d been screwing a university student and even proposed to her.
I peered closely at the woman.
The word on the street was that he’d gone all the way to France to buy her a custom ruby ring.
Her left hand was empty today. Either it was part of the ruse, or the entire rumor was false. But judging from the way he was ogling her, Dylan Hamilton wanted her, or he already had her. Both scenarios angered me beyond reason.
I leaned over to Sasha and whispered close to her ear. “I want to meet her,” I ordered.
Sasha’s eyes fluttered and closed.
“At the gala tonight, find her and bring her to me. I’d like to introduce myself.” A deafening round of applause sounded as they announced her name and the president of the university handed her a degree. I clapped along with the masses.
“I didn’t realize we were hiring,” Sasha remarked. I couldn’t help but notice the tint of green coloring her tone, but I couldn’t be bothered to entertain it.
All I could do was smirk and stroke my beard. “We weren’t,” I confirmed, “but we are now.”
Two
Dylan
‘Sworn Nemesis’
My eyes were pinned on her.
Fastened.
Laila Renaud was making her way across the stage, but even beneath the slack graduation gown, I detected the sensual swell of her hips and the mesmerizing roll of her bottom. My eyes lingered as my mind wandered with thoughts of what she might have on beneath it. During her internship, she’d always been impeccably dressed: tailored pants suits with jackets that flared just above her snatched waist; pencil skirts that highlighted her shape, and silk necktie blouses that emphasized the gracefulness of her neck. Laila was a small fille, yet her ratio of curves was astounding, and the way she carried herself commanded respect and attention.
I tried to focus on other things. After all, I was one of the guests of honor after offering the most coveted internship position to two of the university’s students. The last thing I should have been doing was slavering after the woman who was crossing the stage. I should have been clapping my hands and offering smiles of congratulations; yet, the only thing I could do was gawk and imagine. Reminisce.
My eyes drank in every aspect of her perfection, from her creamy, caramel skin and her bright, vibrant eyes, to her pert breasts, which I could see pressing against the gown. I shifted in my seat, hoping my manhood would behave itself.
“She looks great.” My business partner’s words barely sliced into my lewd thoughts, but I pulled my eyes away just long enough to give him the impression I was paying him some mind.
“She looks phenomenal, Max,” I muttered.
My eyes flew back just as the President of Johnson and Wales declared her name, followed by a slew of accolades: summa cum laude; first in class; valedictorian...
My heart swelled until I was certain it would come through my shirt. The smile she wore brightened her face and my life, and when she captured my gaze I arrested, penetrating her to the core with my intensity.
From where I was sitting in the front row, I could see her slight gasp, then a small smile played on her luscious lips before she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and let her eyes fall from mine. As she exited the stage, she lifted her diploma high and her peers cheered wildly, no doubt thinking about the inspirational words she’d imparted minutes before.
Laila Renaud had stolen the show.
Laila Renaud had stolen my show... But of course, that had happened long before today. In fact, Laila had consumed
every inch of me from the very minute I’d laid eyes on her sitting in my boardroom during her time as an intern at my firm.
I ran my thumb across the edge of my mouth discreetly and pressed my back against the seat as she disappeared off the stage.
Six more hours...
Later that evening, I was seated in the back of a sleek limo, being whisked to the grand City Hall Convention Center, where Johnson and Wales University was hosting an elegant gala in honor of its graduates. I whipped out my cell phone and scanned the various text messages that had accumulated over the last thirty minutes.
Max, Brenneman, Stefan... I mumbled the names to myself and flipped each of the screens closed before opening a new message. My fingers hovered over the phone’s face for a second and I smirked.
Me: 4 more hours...
I shoved the phone back into the inside of my dinner jacket and rested my back against the leather seat as the limo wheeled through the streets and soon, it was pulling up at the front of City Hall. My right-hand man, Ignacio, hopped out and opened the rear door. I set one spectacularly polished Oxford on the sidewalk, a fashionable sock exposed, before hoisting myself out of the car. I tugged on the hem of my jacket and trotted up the front steps towards the entrance to look for my buddy, Stefan. Immediately, people whispered and pointed, but I brushed past them with only one thing on my mind.
The place was filled to the brim and buzzing with graduates, their families, and my contemporaries, who, like me, had supported the university both fiscally and in terms of physical presence. I stretched my neck above the multitude at the sight of Stefan’s lifted hand alerting me to his location, though his curly afro, his pride and joy, would give him away every time.
I started towards him, but then I saw her approaching and everything went in slow motion. The gold, sleek gown she was wearing looked like a shimmering second skin, clinging to her body and slinking down her length until it pooled on the floor. A deep v-cut in the rear revealed the crease of her toned back, and another deep cut in the front teased the eye with the tantalizing swell of her buttery-brown breasts. Her hair had been snatched into a ponytail during the graduation, but now it was in an array of curls and pinned up high, so that I could get an unobstructed view of her throat. In a matter of seconds, our energies synchronized. Laila’s lips fell open, the nude gloss on them making them look like prepared peaches. Her eyebrows drew and her posture slackened. Her expression turned tortured.
I knew that expression very well...
I inhaled, feeling myself expand against the fabric of my pants.
Three-and-a-half more hours...
I nodded respectfully before forcing myself to continue in Stefan’s direction, lest I accost Laila and take her to the top of the building like a Godzilla.
When I approached, Stefan took me into a strong hug. We slapped each other on the backs.
“Right so....” He cleared his throat. “I’m just gonna go ahead and act like I didn’t see that; because I’m sure that if I was a total stranger, and not your best friend who is fully aware of everything that is going on between you and your former intern, that’s what you would want me to do.” He pushed his lips out and pressed them against his glass.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, Dylan,” he charged me, one arm falling to his side. “I’m your brother-from-another-mother. I’ve known you since undergrad.”
“Which means?”
“Which means that I know you. That hot and heavy exchange between you and Laila Renaud is electric,” he clarified. “You two are acting as if you don’t know each other from a hole in the wall, but I’m not sure how effective you are. The two of you are about to set this place on fire.”
“That was the agreement,” I informed him briskly. “We arrive and leave separately. The last thing we need is people speculating, thinking that I have anything to do with how amazing she is. I can only imagine tomorrow’s tabloid headlines if they saw us leave together,” I scoffed. The truth was, I couldn’t care less what anyone would say or think if they knew the truth about Laila and me. In fact, I was plotting ways to lure her into one of the lavish restrooms – women’s or men’s, it didn’t matter to me – so I could peel that golden dress off her body and see what color lingerie she was wearing tonight.
“You have a point,” Stefan agreed. “And based on the few things you’ve told me about her, it’s sounds like she would have it no other way.”
My eyes narrowed. “She’s driven,” I said. “Even if I wanted to, she wouldn’t let me influence her professional progress. It’s one of the things I love about her. She’s not one of these women who’s looking for a wealthy crutch.”
We fell silent, each of us nursing our champagne as I engaged in the mundane pleasantries that came with being one of the most influential businessmen in Miami. A few of my contemporaries meandered over to discuss Wall Street’s performance, and several graduates introduced themselves to me, verbally vomiting their resumes. I congratulated them and forwarded them to my HR department, even though I knew my firm wasn’t hiring. Besides, if we were going to hire anyone, it would be Laila Renaud, and she didn’t wish to work at Hamilton Associates.
Suddenly, Stefan nudged me on the elbow and lifted his chin. “Well lookie there...” He pushed his chin forward and an imperious grin slid across his face.
My eyes shifted across the room and my face turned to stone when I saw Michael Sawyer, my sworn nemesis, standing cocky in the distance. His pompous vibe radiated towards me and my lip curled. But indignation crept over me when I noticed him approaching Laila.
My jaw clenched as I took a sip from my glass.
“You need to relax,” Stefan advised, staring at our mutual target.
“Do I seem uptight?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Others might not notice, but I do. Since when have you been intimidated by anyone? Especially Michael Sawyer?” He took a sip of his beverage.
“You know the answer to that question better than anyone,” I muttered. My lips hardly moved. I chortled. “That guy hasn’t changed one bit since graduate school,” I said, turning my gaze away so I wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. “Still cocky –”
“Still covetous,” Stefan added.
I completed my thought. “A complete jackass.”
Stefan shook his head. “The two of you never did set,” he remembered, sipping his champagne.
“We set,” I corrected him, “like oil and goddamn water. He used to watch everything I did and try to one-up me.”
“Because he wanted to be you, though he would never admit that,” Stefan considered with an incredulous grunt. “Hell... the way he’s always on about the white man, it’s no wonder he can’t stand your guts.”
My eyes thinned as I peered over at him. Now he was in her face, and ma belle fille stood stoic and sedate in front of him. It reminded me of her presentation when we’d first met. It had taken a little less than a strong army to convince her that if she gave us a chance, she could have it all. Laila Renaud was a tenacious and driven woman. Just thinking about her made me hot and hungry.
Two more hours...
Michael Sawyer’s boisterous laugh resonated through City Hall.
I grimaced as a sour taste filled my mouth.
Stefan dipped his head forward. “I’ve been made to understand he’s been eating the crumbs that fall off the Hamilton Associates’ table.”
I shrugged a lazy shoulder. “They all do, so good for him,” I spat. “It just confirms that he’ll forever be one step behind me. I’m not concerned about Michael Sawyer.”
Stefan looked worried. “I know. There are not many things which move you. Still, I don’t trust him.”
“Neither do I,” I agreed, “which is why I deliberately keep my distance.” I grunted. “The only time I see him is at charity events. We’re cordial, but even that requires a considerable amo
unt of effort. As long as he doesn’t touch what’s mine, I...”
My words evaporated when I noticed Laila’s brightening smile and the firm handshake she offered him.
The edges of my eyes quivered.
Stefan frowned. “What the hell was that?”
The muscle in my jaw twitched. I had no goddamn idea.
Three
Dylan
‘Release Me’
It was 1 AM.
I headed for my limo, which was parked in a secure area of the University campus. Laila and I had maintained our distance for the majority of the night, and the physical separation had long since taken its erotic toll. I had been watching my Patek Philippe the entire night, amusing myself with a mental countdown to the minute I would have her in my bed. By now, I was ravenous, but I couldn’t deny that the interaction between her and Michael Sawyer had gotten under my skin.
I shoved the annoying thoughts to the back of my mind as the sleek Mercedes drew up to the curb and Ignacio hopped out. He opened the back door for me and I thanked him with a gracious nod, ducking my head before slipping into the back seat. I pulled out my cell phone to message Laila, but before I could get it out of my pocket, my nose pricked. In an instant, a certain aroma – fruity, floral, musky – arrested me.
Laila’s hand touched my thigh and slinked up its length until they landed on my already expanding anatomy. She squeezed me and didn’t say a word as she crawled over the seat and into my lap, straddling me. The gold gown slid up her thighs. Her eyes were low and heavy.
I pressed a button to black out all of the windows as the limo pulled away. I gripped her waist and tugged her into a ravening kiss, taking her from the outside in.
Her fingers raked through my hair and she moaned deep into my mouth.
“Thirty more minutes,” I growled, and she chuckled.
“I’ve been getting your timeline messages all night,” she whispered.
Coup: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 2) Page 1
